


Bells and Banjoes

by moushkas



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: mpregbigbang, Drunk Sex, Gender Roles, Implied Abortion Procedures, Knotting, M/M, Mpreg, Self Lubrication, Society Supported Oppression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 16:22:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moushkas/pseuds/moushkas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The genders of society are as followed: 'regular' men, women and 'receptive' men who have the ability to become pregnant. Unlike 'regular' men and women, 'receptive' men are expected to stay at home and bear children. Civil Rights have come far enough to allow them an education and a job as far away from 'regular' men as much as possible.</p><p>Stiles Stilinski, a receptive male, is in his last year of school, working on his primary education degree. His life is filled with routine, especially his father nagging him to get married and start bear young. All Stiles wants to do is walk on the wild side. So he and his best friend, a bitten werewolf named Scott, break the rules and enter into the city's werewolf territory. There he meets the untamed Derek Hale and gets his taste of danger.</p><p>A month later and Stiles is hit with the consequences, he's pregnant. He's unwed, young and pregnant not to mention the father is a werewolf. He finds Derek and request help to 'get rid' of the problem. The two go on an adventure seeking a doctor to perform the procedure but, by the end Stiles isn't sure he can go through with it and he's not sure how much he hates Derek either</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bells and Banjoes

**Author's Note:**

> To my lovely artist **qafmaniac** : you're totally awesome and you did such an amazing job. Thank you!  
> Here is the art link for the wonderful banners: [Art Masterpost](http://qafmaniac.livejournal.com/223462.html)
> 
> To the community **Mpreg Big Bang** : this was so much fun and I can't wait for the next round.  
> Here is the community link here, check out the great selection of stories:  
> [ MPREG Big Bang ](http://mpregbigbang.livejournal.com/)
> 
> To the readers: this was half edited via my iPad because its midterm weak and this just got away from me. I'm sorry about the mistakes, they will be corrected as soon as I can get it done! 
> 
> This is inspired by 'Love With A Proper Stranger' with Steve McQueen and Natalie Wood. Please go watch it! I hope you enjoy the story!

**Bells and Banjoes**

The alarm clock was loud, annoying for six in the morning. Stiles Stilinski wormed out of his many blankets to turn it off. The sun barely peeked through the light blue shades, a sign that he needed to get out of bed now. He rolled onto the floor and shivered as he was hit by the cool air. It wasn’t summer anymore, hadn’t been for almost five months now which meant school and responsibilities. He was just fortunate enough to be a receptive male, so the tuition was discounted enough that he didn’t have to worry about a job. Unlike his best friend, Scott, a ‘regular’ bitten-wolf who had to pull two jobs and school for his degree.

Stiles stood up and stretched his gangly, pale limbs then rubbed his recently shaved head. His brown locks, baby fine and unmanageable, were in a freshly perfected buzz cut. He preferred the look even if it made him seem young. He didn’t have to take more time to ‘look pretty’ when it was one style every day. He glanced at the time, he had an hour until his senior seminar class. He used that opportunity to get dressed. He started his student teaching today which meant he had to wear a freshly pressed pair of khakis and a nice, red, buttoned shirt, pressed from the night before. He pulled found two pairs of sock and found his favorite red converse.

He shuffled down the stairs to the kitchen where his father was drinking coffee. Breakfast was already made, a sausage, egg and cheese sandwich that had been warmed up in a microwave. Stiles sighed when he looked at the box the sandwich had come from, “Dad, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack. What about cheerios and fresh fruit?”

His father sighed, “Why don’t you get yourself a mate and nag him?”

Stiles laughed sarcastically, “Ooh, someone is cranky today. You need another cup of coffee.”

Stiles grabbed the coffee pot and poured more into his father’s mug. His father grunted and allowed Stiles to carry on, “Stiles, I know your teaching degree is important. And its nice that the federal government has gone so far as to provide full scholarships to your kind.” Stiles cringed at his father’s word. It wasn’t like a male with a reproductive gene was rare but the culture still expected them to sit at home and pop out babies. Stiles couldn’t understand why it was so hard for everyone to be equal, why it was hard for his father to understand that he wanted to work first, to be able to provide for his future family like the ‘regular’ men out there, “But why can’t you find a mate already?”

Stiles pouted, “I thought you’d be proud, Dad. I’m being my own person.”

His father sighed and took his hand, patting it lightly, “I know, I know. It’s just that, you’re twenty now, Stiles. You’ve got another year to find a mate and then, well, I don’t know what will happen. I just want you to be happy.”

Receptive males, men born with the ability to give birth, were considered a second-class minority in the United States. The gene was mysterious and passed from the mother’s side of the family, escalated by hormone pills like the ones his mother had to take to have him. For some reason rights for receptive males, who were normally more leaner and softer and apparently smelled much better, were not the same as ‘regular’ men. They were expected to get their high school education, then marriage, children and become a house husband. There was nothing more expected out of them except to make babies and dinner. 

There were a few rebels that fought for the right to a higher education, for support if a receptive male has a family but needs to get a job. So Stiles got a scholarship, providing a husband would be found by his graduation at 22. After that, well, there wasn't an 'after that'. Although Stiles was curious about the elusive 'single and 22' his father worried about the future, about Stiles’s happiness, and Stiles was sure the man wanted grandchildren. Thus annoying him every day since he turned eighteen and decided he wanted a professional career first.

It wasn't his father's fault that society didn't understand Stiles' drive to be a provider just as much as a caregiver. He was still masculine in nature with a drive to be the one to earn the money and be the one with that materialistic power. Stiles' drive to be independent was also a way to protect his clear lonely future. 

It wasn’t like there were "gentlemen callers" coming to his door and begging for his hand everyday. He didn't feel like there would be that many in the future anyways. No, Stiles may be one of the few receptive males in California without any possibility of a husband in the future. So, getting a career was the next step and with only a choice between pediatrics or education, Stiles chose to be a math teacher. 

Stiles smiled sadly, “I am happy. I think I’ll take breakfast to go.”

His father smiled at him as he left the house, a flail of limbs and his school bag so he didn’t have to hear his father talk about mates again. 

***

Stiles preferred the school over every place else in Beacon Hills. At school, he wasn’t the pathetic, single, virgin Receptive Male. He was Stiles Stilinski, the odd ball that hung out with the clumsy werewolf and got the best grades in class. He wasn’t pressured to find a mate, he wasn’t looked down on because he was still a virgin. In fact, most people were too concerned with getting their own degrees that they didn’t bother with the reason why Stiles was getting his.

Even though Stiles was permitted to get an education, his career choices were limited. Receptive males weren’t welcome in the business atmosphere. They were considered distracting, especially during their fertility week when all they wanted to do was hump. They were shunned in specific areas of medical positions for the sheer fact that they’d be around werewolves who could smell them. It was discovered rather early in the phenomenon that werewolves were more sensitive to the ' receptive male couldn’t hide their smell and thus education was the only place to go. It was a career where they mostly dealt with children and women. If they were in their fertility week, they could get a substitute without any question. It was ideal for receptive males, if they wanted a career at all.

His favorite class happened to be his student teaching class. It was the last required class before graduation and Stiles was excited to get his placement. The first three weeks was a group meeting within their coordinator where they’d get their assigned classrooms, the seminar's requirements for passing and, talk with fellow potential teachers. Once out in the field they would meet Friday evenings and talk about the classroom. There were very few men in his class, all of them receptive males. The three of them, all married, were pleasant to him but the conversations were always the same.

“Any potential men, Stiles?” Adam had just found out he was pregnant. He’d married his high school sweet heart at 18 and treated marriage like it was perfect all the time, “You’re starting to turn ripe.”

Stiles didn’t like Adam very much.

“Leave him alone, Adam.” Tenn, short for Tennessee, had an arranged marriage right before he turned 22, birthed three kids and convinced his husband to let him go back to school. He was everything Stiles did not want to be but he was a better man for everything he went through, “Not all of us are as blessed as you. We don’t have a husband that dotes on us like we’re princesses. If Stiles doesn’t want to be a baby maker that’s his right.”

“You’re so bitter, Tenn.” Adam whined, rubbing his stomach that still hadn’t started to show. He turned to Stiles while they waited for class to start, “Having a husband is amazing, Stiles. You only have to clean up or cook for him. He calls you pretty all the time. And sex is amazing.”

Another problem about being a receptive male, no sex before marriage. It was bad enough in society to marry a man, but to marry a whore was outright. Most ‘regular’ men couldn’t tell, only by the way the "bride" reacted on their wedding night. If they were confident, then an annulment would most likely follow the next morning. But werewolf men, they could tell by scent alone. And most receptive men wanted a werewolf, not just for power and wealth but for virility.

Tenn rolled his eyes, “Yeah, sex is fine. But not when they treat you like a whore.”

“Guys, stop it,” Richter, the only one married to a werewolf in the group, sighed beside Stiles. He was a nice guy, not overly bubbly or negative about marriage. He had one child under his belt and there were days that he cried and there were days that he seemed genuinely in love. He gave Stiles hope that love wasn’t all about the falling into it, “Stiles, someday you’re going to find a man that will love you for everything you are. Tenn’s husband loves him, even if Tenn doesn’t admit it. Adam and his husband have fights and that’s normal. What you should concentrate on is getting your certificate and getting a job.”

Stiles smiled softly, “I don’t think marriage is in the cards for me.”

Tenn and Adam scoffed and Richter snickered a little. Adam grinned from ear to ear, “They don’t have spinster receptive, Stiles.”

“You either find a husband on your own or they give you one.” Tenn sighed, “You don’t get a choice.”

Stiles leaned back in his chair, “It’s not like I’m all that attractive.”

Again, all three laughed at him. The aid walked in at that point, a bulk of paper in her hand that served as their placements. The room quieted and Adam turned to Stiles, “It doesn’t matter what you look like, Stiles. As long as you have a tight ass.”

And wasn’t that the rub. He wasn’t a piece of ass, he wasn’t a baby maker. But no one seemed to be able to get passed that.

***

Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski were brothers-in-arms from elementary school to high school. They made it through Scott getting bit by a rogue Alpha, Stiles discovering he was a receptive, and even a potential marriage proposal and came out as best friends, as brothers. Unfortunately, at 17, Scott’s big secret was revealed and he was carted off to a werewolf-only high school. Everyone said separating humans and werewolves was for the human’s safety but then werewolves had better homes, better schools, better chances. To be a werewolf was to be high class, practically royalty.

When Scott was forced to move to the werewolf area of Beacon Hills, he was terrified that Scott would lose himself in those riches. And yet he and Stiles still talked every day, the feeling of brotherhood never died.

Normally Stiles would eat lunch with his classmates but today he needed to talk to Scott.  
The university was maybe the only area not completely segregated. There were still separate dorms, dining halls, and classes for the safety of receptive males but these were separated by a row of neatly trimmed hedges and an old bench. Scott would be eating with his usual all meat lunch with a side of greasy fries at the closet dinning hall to the library, the only place were a receptive and a werewolf could be found in the same area . He’d most likely be in his dorm room or in the library. He liked to study while he ate which helped him during tests so it wasn’t all that bad.

Stiles dialed Scott from the third floor women's restroom, the only place a receptive could get enough peace to do their business. It rang twice before he picked up and sighed, “Did your Dad get on your case again?”

At this point in their relationship, they didn’t need to say ‘hello’ or ‘what’s up’. Scott usually could tell what the problem was even before Stiles said a word. He heaved an exaggerated breath and groaned, “It’s mate this and mate that! Why can’t he just accept my life? There’s other guys who’ve married after turning 22, right?”

Scott was quiet for some time, “Dude, I don't know. If you want, I’ll propose to you again.”

Stiles laughed out loud and then muffled it when it echoed too loudly. It was a nice offer, one that had been approached when they were younger. But after one kiss shortly after the worst proposal in history, it was decided that a sexual relationship would not be a possibility. They could survive a platonic relationship but that was not want Stiles wanted either. Stiles wanted sex and love, he wanted what his parents had. He’d be safe with Scott but not happy.

“I appreciate it buddy.” Stiles smiled, “But I know you want true love.”

He could practically hear the crooked smile from Scott’s end. He had probably taken his big, tan hand and brushed it through his wild, dark hair. His big brown eyes probably got wider, softer and Stiles was sure there’d be a blush underneath. Scott was a romantic, he liked chick flicks with happy endings and dirty novels where the Werewolf found his perfect mate. Stiles may have been a little more bitter.

“What else is not up your butt?” Scott offered after a pause.

Stiles sighed again, “I got my teaching assignment today.”

“Yeah?” Scott sounded happy. At least one of them was.

“Yeah,” Everyone wanted the nice rooms, the nice teachers. The ones that were young and spunky and supportive. Stiles got Mr. Schumaker, a middle school math and science teacher at Beacon Hills Junior Pep. He was close to retirement and a receptive that usually failed the people that student taught with him. He hated everyone, especially the young, single receptive, for some reason he hated them the most, “I got a tough one. I’m totally going to fail, dude.”

“No,” Scott seemed so confident over the phone, maybe not about his own veterinary degree but certainly about Stiles’s teaching degree, “You’re going to blow his mind. Because you are awesome, man. And you don’t need someone else to tell you that.”

Stiles smiled, “How about I keep you on my shoulder for whenever I feel like crap?”

“How about we do something fun friday night?” Scott offered. Every day, Stiles has woken up, listened to his father ask him about marriage and then schoolwork. Scott asked with a full mouth, “How about a movie?”

“Lame.” Stiles sighed. In less than 15 months, Stiles would be 22, hopefully graduated and looking at future with a horribly possessive mate that would want him to only pop out babies. He needed to grasp the last of his youth now, “How about the bars?”

“Well,” Scott sighed, “I’m a werewolf so I’m not allowed at human bars and your a receptive male so you shouldn’t be at any bars.”

“Why not go to a werewolf bar?” Stiles smiled.

Scott coughed through the phone, “Are you kidding me? That’s like asking to be raped, Stiles. You know they can smell you. They’ll know you’re a virgin and a receptive male. What if someone gets ahold of you?”

Stiles grinned, “My big and bad wolfie friend will come and save you.”

“What if I don’t make it in time?”

“It’s rare that I get pregnant the first time around.” Stiles shrugged, “And I’ll just nick having a werewolf husband in the future. Human men won’t know the difference.” 

Scott gave Stiles a very sad huff, one that spoke volumes of how much the man cared about his best friend. Before Scott was bitten, before he became a partially exiled teenage boy, before Stiles knew that he could give birth and would be forced to some day; they were best friends. Nothing seemed to have changed that either. Scott would always be afraid of the kind of future Stiles is destined to have.

Scott sighed, “Going to a Werewolf bar, going to that side of town with the way you smell, you won’t survive.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Come on, man. Maybe we should live a little dangerously. It’ll be fun.”

“If I say ‘no’,” Scott paused as if he expected Stiles to say 'no' right then,, “Will you just go on your own?”

Stiles laughed, “You know me too well.”

Scott whined with resignation, “Fine. I think its stupid but fine.”

***

Friday did not come fast enough for Stiles. The kids in his class were hellions, they didn’t like to sit down, some were screamers and even though they’d already had four months of classes, some were cranky and liked to disrespect him. And Mr. I-Don’t-Talk-To-You-Ungrateful-Yungins left Stiles to punish the brats.

Stiles was ready to file a complaint against his placement teacher as the man only sat at his desk and read the paper. It wasn’t fair to young students to be exposed to a disgruntled old man so early in their age. But then the class was on the verge of a full scale rebellion, Stiles was sure he’d be hog-tied to a chair when the man stood up, shuffled his papers and somehow wrangled them all into a circle where he blew he made them recite the class rules.

Stiles was sure he was screwed then. He was going to fail the entire course and he’d be forced to marry some rich man to survive. But Mr. Schumaker just took him by the shoulder, told him to relax and let Stiles take the wheel. Now, friday evening and Stiles couldn’t wait to go to a bar.

Scott showed up as promised, with pizza and beer as a starter. Humans may not have been able to drink until 21, but werewolves didn't have an age restriction. Mostly because they could not get drunk; it was only by fortune sake that Stiles’s Dad, town sheriff, was out on patrol all night. Stiles smiled, “Hey! Good plan.”

Scott smiled and the two crashed on the couch, pizza box in between them and beers on the table. When Stiles took a bite of the pizza he literally moaned, even pizza from the werewolf neighborhood was better.

Scott let Stiles drink most of the beer, allowing him to get a light buzz. He fiddled with his button-up shirt, “So, I figured I’d drive. But we need a game plan. You can’t go home with anyone, alright?”

Stiles laughed, “I just want a taste of the wild side. I promise to wait until marriage.”

Scott rolled his eyes, “You have a hard enough time, Stiles. I don’t want it to get worse for you. I’ll be there with you the entire time.”

The two finished off the pizza together, talked about school and then piled into Scott’s borrowed Honda to drive to the bars.

Wolf Moon was a bar strictly for the werewolf community. It was located in the center of the shopping district of their area of town. It was a popular hang out place for the young and the restless, the rich and famous, mostly anybody who was anybody was at the Wolf Moon on any given night. Which meant, it was rare to find a poor, bitten werewolf and a human inside, especially a receptive, virgin male.

“I don’t like this,” Scott sighed as they waited in line for entry. They were just a few people away from the door, the pounding base could be heard from a distance. Stiles was jumping in place, excitement filling every bone in his body. Scott took a protective stance over him, protecting his scent from any curious werewolf. They had tried to mask Stiles’s scent with werewolf cologne but Scott was sure if someone was really seeking out Stiles’s scent, they’d smell his true identity.

“Come one, dude,” Stiles elbowed him, “Adventure, alcohol and hot tail.”

Scott rolled his eyes, “It may be fun for you but you won’t have to get your ass kicked by werewolves when they find out who you are.”

Stiles laughed, glancing around the line, “Dude, seriously. It’s fine. We’ve been in line for an hour and no one has realized it.”

Scott huffed and they stepped forward in line, two more people away from the entrance. Scott turned to Stiles again, large eyes filled with worry again, “How do we even know we’re going to get in?”

Stiles gave him a sultry look, one that hardly phased Scott, or most people for that matter but maybe a desperate bouncer. Scott shook his head, only a little disappointed with Stiles’s genius scheme. The couple in front of them got in and the two stepped up to the bounce.

Stiles smiled, “Hi.”

The bouncer, a big, meaty kind of guy with a very dark appearance glared at Stiles, “Are you old enough?”

Stiles laughed and flashed his brand new, fake ID, “Of course. I’m twenty-two, but thank you for the complement.”

The bouncer glared at him, “We don’t allow children in the club.”

Stiles pouted, getting up close to the bouncer and touching him lightly. Scott held his breath, terrified that the cologne wouldn’t hide Stiles’s pheromones. Stiles didn’t believe Scott when he told Stiles he smelled good to werewolves. Maybe it was because human senses were dull, or that Stiles’s natural smells was geared towards men and not women but Stiles laughed him off and flaunted that delicious scent everywhere. He was even doing it now, though Scott wasn’t sure if anyone else could smell it.

“Aww, come on,” Stiles jutted his lip out and if Scott noticed his ass pressing a little to close to the bouncer’s hip, no one else seemed to, “Clubs always need a little fresh meat.”

The bouncer’s nostrils began to flare, his head tilting into Stiles just a little more. Scott knew what this meant, what was about to happen. The bouncer, a large, meaty werewolf, was smelling Stiles as a potential mate. His dark brown eyes dilated as he captured the scent of Stiles. Scott stepped forward with a growl which the bouncer returned just as aggressively. 

“Stiles,” Scott snarled. He felt the blood rush his veins, his body preparing for the transformation necessary to take down his enemy. He latched onto Stiles’s arm and pulled the human back, “Step away from him.”

The bouncer growled, eyes flashing blue, “You should keep your slut in tow.”

“Hey.” Stiles shouted but Scott tightened his grip on his arm.

“Shut up, Stiles.” Scott hissed, “He can smell you.”

Immediately Stiles was on guard and he moved behind Scott. He gripped the edges of Scott’s shirt, “Hey, Scott. Let’s just go.”

The bouncer grinned brightly, “You little tease. You’re just going to bail after all that flirting.”

Scott snarled again, leaned forward as if he was going to pounce on the bouncer when a lanky man stepped up next to him. He crowded around Stiles and Scott, shouldering them closer to the open door. He smiled at the bouncer, a little crooked and showing the one, dangerous looking fang. His mop of sandy curls covered most of his pale face, his glowing blue eyes were focused on Scott, “Hey Russell, picking fights with newbs?”

“Isaac.” The bouncer growled at that tall man, “Just because your Hale’s pack, doesn’t mean you can snag all the goods.”

Isaac placed one, large hand against the back of Scott’s neck. Scott relaxed to a puddle of goo right before Stiles’s eyes. He watched his best friend go from rapid werewolf to relaxed puppy in the grasp of a strange werewolf who was slowly pushing both of them into the club. He managed to use both Scott’s lax body and his own to surround Stiles, blocking his scent from the other werewolf.

Isaac growled low in the back of his throat, a slight rumble that shook Scott. Russell stepped back, eyes fading back to brown. He spat on the street, “Keep your meat away from the bar.”

Isaac threw him a grin and finally pushed everyone inside. The club was loud, the music a little annoying, and the smell of liquor and sweat perfumed the area. For once in his very virgin life, Stiles actually felt safe. He stuck close to Scott, who was practically falling into Isaac.

“What are you doing to him?” Stiles shouted over the blasting techno music. Isaac turned to Stiles, same half smirk across his face. Instead of responding, he just turned back around and guided the two to a secluded part of the bar. Isaac placed Scott on a stool, the smaller boy practically melting into the floor. Stiles sat across from his friend, staring at the goofy smile on his face.

Isaac looked at Stiles, “nothing bad, I promise . What do you want to drink?”

“How do I know you won’t spike it?” Stiles frowned.

Isaac laughed to himself and held out his hand, “I’m Isaac. And you’re not my type.”

Stiles resisted huffing. Apparently he wasn’t anyone’s type, a fate nearly worse than death. He took Isaac’s hand and shook once, though he did it with an exuberant pout, “Stiles. And that is Scott.”

Isaac turned to look at Scott, their eyes meeting from across the haze of a club that was far from well lit. Scott’s big brown eyes looked dilated and Stiles felt suddenly uncomfortable. It was hard to understand what he was witnessing but it looked an awful lot like love. Isaac exhaled, “Scott.”

And Scott shuttered. 

Stiles glared up at the strange werewolf, “How about you get us beers.”

Isaac grinned and turned away from them. As soon as he was some distance away, Stiles snapped his fingers in front of Scott. The werewolf’s brown eyes refocused and looked at Stiles, “Dude.”

Stiles gave Scott an unamused look, he reached across the table and smacked Scott across the shoulder, “Dude, what the hell was that?”

Scott shook himself a little, his eyes sobering, “S-sorry, man.”

“Dude,” Stiles leaned forward, “Was that a werewolf thing?”

Scott blushed, “What? No. He just...” Scott muttered, “He just smelled good.”

Stiles frowned. He didn’t have keen senses like Scott did and being a receptive male, he couldn’t tell the difference with other men. But the goofy, half baked look Scott had when Isaac was around was very familiar with Stiles, maybe not directed at him but he’s been around it enough.

Before Stiles had he chance to really talk, Isaac was in their space again and waving three beers at them. He smiled brightly, “So, first round is on me.”

“Thank you.” Stiles offered though there was a bitter taste in his mouth as he said it. He glanced at Scott who was back to starring dreamily at Isaac. His nostrils were a little flared too, twitching as he scented the air. Stiles turned to Isaac who was swaying into Scott’s space, “We appreciate you rescuing us and getting us in here.”

Isaac shuttered visibly and turned to Stiles. His chest was heaving slightly, eyes dark, “You shouldn’t be throwing your scent around like you do. The wrong guy is going to get the wrong impression.”

“You have experience with that?” Stiles retorted, taking a swig of his beer. He decided to gulp it down and try to get that happy buzz feeling back.

Isaac’s eyes flashed his eyes, a bright gold in the dull bar light, “Yes. You could say that.”

“Are you...”

Isaac grinned and pointed at Stiles’s drink, “You look like you’re almost out. Trying to make some trouble tonight?”

Stiles grinned, “Something like that.”

He stood up, feeling the warmth of beer flow through him, “I’m going to the bar, want something?”

Isaac smiled, “No I’m fine.”

Stiles frowned, glancing between Scott and Isaac, “He’s a virgin. He can’t handle all of that pheromone.”

Isaac smiled and leaned into Stiles’s shoulder, “He’ll be fine. You should watch out for yourself.”

Stiles moved as far away as he could, glancing back only once to see Isaac lean into Scott and whisper in his ear. Stiles was only a little jealous of his best friend. The guy was far from a virgin but that relationship had ended messy and Scott hadn’t really dated since. But it was his first real exposure to a receptive male that wasn’t Stiles. He was pretty sure that was tough on Scott. However, that didn’t mean that Stiles wasn’t upset. It was his idea for a hook up and here Scott was with his baby brown eyes, getting a potential mate; only Scott.

Stiles huffed as he pushed his way through the crowds to get to the bar. When he finally squirmed his way through the crowd and fell over the counter and clang to it like a lifeline. He heaved a great sigh and waited for the bar tender to come over to him. He glanced to his right, catching sight of huge, tanned hands gripping the neck of a beer bottle. Following the line of the hand he spotted a bulk of muscle wrapped in a tight gray henley, his eyes passed a very well built chest until it landed on the mysterious man’s face.

If Stiles hadn’t been laying across the bar, his jaw would have dropped.

The man sitting next to him was all hazel eyes, dark scruff and matching wild hair. His straight jaw looked like it could glass, his nose was sharp and pointed, nostrils flaring. His thick eyebrows were furrowed as if he was deep in thought. He took a large swig of beer, his throat relaxing to let the alcohol in. Stiles shuddered, feeling his gut flash hot. He worried for just a little that his fertile week was suddenly starting but relaxed again. His fertile week was always at the end of the month, a full eight days from now, so the only feeling he was experiencing was attraction.

Before he had the chance to really analyze the heat in his belly, the bartender was at his side, “What’ll you have?”

Stiles sat up, flushing brightly when he noticed the man turning his attention to him, “Um, a whiskey sour?”

The bartender grinned at him, “Coming up, starting a tab?”

"Um...” Stiles flushed. How would it look if he started a tab? Would it show the man next to him that he was going to sit here for awhile, that he was planning on getting drunk? Would it give him the impression that Stiles wanted something from him. He turned to look at the man next to him. He was staring at Stiles, head tilted just slightly and sniffing the air around Stiles. He flushed in return and squeaked at the bartender, “I’ll start a tab.”

The bartender nodded and waited for Stiles to find a card. He pulled out his credit card and passed it the bartender, feeling numb around his finger tips. He waited patiently for his drink and tried not to look at the man next to him. The drink was placed in front of him, a small tumblr glass filled with bitter, brown liquid before he had the chance to regret his decision. He chugged it all and was proud to only cough a little. The bartender chuckled and poured another one quickly.

“You’ll get sick if you drink those too fast.” A deep, gruff voice floated down from the man next to him. Stiles straightened up and looked at him. 

The bartender placed the drink in front of him and Stiles took another gulp, “I’ll be fine.”

The man grinned at him, large fangs appearing from his pink, puffy lips. Stiles gulped audibly, his dick making itself known in his pants. The man tilted his head again, nose closing in on Stiles. He tried to calm himself down, relax the body so it would stop releasing whatever smell it was that attracted the ‘regulars'. He heaved a great sigh and took another drink. When the warmth of the liquor relaxed his muscles, he turned to the man again.

The stranger’s sharp eyes were on him, concentrating on the juncture of his throat. He licked his lips which elicited a shudder down Stiles’s spine. The man’s nostrils flared again and his eyes turned darker. Stiles felt the urge to lean into the man, his head moving just enough to show more of his pale neck. His eyes turned from the man’s face and spotted Scott and Isaac.

Scott’s face was buried in Isaac’s neck, doing god knows what to the pale flesh. They were shuffling their way to the dance floor, bodies hardly an inch apart from each other. Stiles winced and turned back towards the werewolf. His eyes were on the dance floor but his body was facing Stiles, completely open to his enjoyment. He smirked, “Looks like Isaac hooked another virgin.”

Stiles mentally pulled from the man. Though physically they were hardly close, Stiles felt as if they were sharing the same space, breathing the same air, “For your information, he’s not. He had a girlfriend for two years. He’s just never been with a guy before.”

“Same difference.” He narrowed his eyes at Stiles and moved closer, “You smell...different.”

Stiles blushed, hoping there was still enough residual cologne to mask his smell from this man, “Uh...”

He took one long sniff and promptly sneezed, “You smell like a virgin.”

Stiles pouted, “Well, excuse me. I don’t get the chance to go out that much.”

The man was quiet for a moment, eyes practically black and jaw just a little slack. He growled low in his throat, barely audible over the pulsing music but it made Stiles warm inside. He involuntarily leaned his hips closer to the man. The stranger moved his hand from the beer to Stiles’s hip, pulling him close and leaning in to him. 

He growled in Stiles’s ear, “How about I show you a good time?”

Stiles laughed, “I don’t go home with strangers.”

“My name is Derek Hale.” He responded, “Now I’m not a stranger.”

Stiles laughed, “I’m trying to walk on the wild side, man. It’s too early to end the night.”

Derek rolled his eyes, “I’m pretty sure you’ll be up all night.”

Stiles flushed, grabbed the whiskey and chugged it. He coughed as the burn stung his throat. Derek was smiling though it was more in the crinkle of his eyes then his lips. Stiles took Derek’s hand from his hip, “I don’t go home with werewolves.”

The man frowned, “Then why did you come here?”

“I’m just trying to have fun.” Stiles whispered. He felt the heat of the blush rising, foolishness burning in his gut. Derek’s very large thumb began to stroke his palm, relaxing him, “I’ve never done this before.”

“I’ll take care of you.” Derek leaned forward, “We’ll only do what you feel comfortable doing.”

Stiles nodded. Here was the moment of truth, as a receptive male, sex before marriage was frowned upon. After all, if he got pregnant, he’d be shamed right out of his future career. But then, all Derek knew was that Stiles was a virgin. If Stiles was going to let go, he was going to have to ignore the consequences. He rolled his shoulders and smiled at Derek, “Buy me a drink and we’ll talk.”

Derek's eyes brightened and gestured to the bar tender for another round.

***

If Stiles were honest with himself, he would have hoped losing his virginity was just like this. It was a classy hotel room with a jack jones record playing in the background. There was champagne, candles and even a hot tub in the bathroom. The only thing that was unexpected was the company. 

Stiles imagined, like most receptive males, being wooed by a potential suitor, falling madly in love, having a small but romantic wedding and then a nice, gentle wedding night with the man he loves. It was what the media and parents put in their mind as the ultimate goal and it was so deeply ingrained that even Stiles couldn't deny the desire. Instead his first time was a rough meld of drunken kisses and humping. Derek’s large hands were all over him, squeezing and pinching places. While it felt good, and his body quickly became an unbearable mess of heat and pleasure, it wasn’t anything like he imagined really late at night. 

Derek threw him against a wall and lined his entire body up with Stiles. Stiles could feel the werewolf's erection throb through his tight pants, it pressed against his own erection and he moaned. Derek responded with a deep rumble, biting at Stiles’s neck. 

Stiles groaned, “D-Derek.”

“Yeah.” Derek murmured.

Stiles moaned, “T-take me to the bed.”

Derek chuckled darkly, “If you insist.”

Derek’s large hands took Stiles ass in his hands, squeezing tightly. Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist and allowed him to carry him to the bed. They fell against it, rubbing against each other and reveling in the friction. Derek leaned up, freed his arms from beneath Stiles and began to strip. Stiles watched the reveal of bulky, rippling muscles. Derek was defined, every inch of him made of muscle and flesh. Stiles reached out and stroked the light amount of hair across his chest. Derek’s hips stuttered, pressing deeper into Stiles’s hips which caused both of them to groan.

Derek pulled away quickly, stripping himself of his pants and underwear. His dick bobbed free, large and red. Stiles blushed, mouth watering just a little too. He’d never seen another dick in real life and the anticipation to feel it all over and in him made him ache. No one ever explained to Stiles what he would feel when he was turned on but he learned quickly that lube was not always necessary when something was aiming to go inside him. It usually took a lot of porn and imagination for him to get wet enough for a finger. Staring at Derek and his raging hard on and thick muscles made Stiles soak all the way through his boxers.

He moaned, breath hitching when Derek’s hands grasped his pants and began to unbuckle them. Derek’s thumbs rubbed against the exposed skin and pressed down as he removed the pants and boxers. Stiles whimpered, growing louder when his own cock hit the cold air. He moaned low in his throat when he felt Derek’s teeth graze against his thigh. Stiles took care of his own shirt, throwing it across the room. Derek growled and fell over Stiles, rubbing their bare cocks together and attacking Stiles’s neck.

“You make me crazy.” Derek moaned, dick rubbing into the juncture of Stiles’s legs. He opened his legs for Derek, throwing one over the man’s hip, the other spread out wide so that he was completely open. Derek’s hand took hold of the leg from under the knee and raised it to rest over his shoulder.

The two shared a smoldering kiss as Derek’s hands made a burning trail down Stiles’s thigh until it reached his hole. Derek groaned into the kiss as one finger easily slipped inside. Stiles bucked his hips and whimpered, “yes.”

“You’re already prepared for me.” Derek groaned, “You’re so amazing.”

Stiles was too turned on to explain himself and Derek didn’t seem to be bothered by it. Derek pressed a second finger into Stiles, both groaning. Stiles clenched his ass, feeling the pressure of two fingers inside him. Derek moved them around, pressing and stretching him. Stiles groaned, “I’m ready, just do it.”

Derek chuckled and kissed Stiles’s collar bone. He pressed a third finger in, pressing deep inside Stiles, “It’s going to hurt. I’m not small and this is your first time.”

He pushed deep into Stiles, pressing against his prostate. Stiles cried out, hips pushing back against Derek’s hand, “Just do it. Please.”

Derek pulled his fingers out and nudged his hips against Stiles’s hole. He kissed Stiles gently and pressed against him, slowly entering. Stiles groaned and whimpered against Derek, clutching his shoulder tightly. The sensations were overwhelming, his entire being was burning from the inside out. He could only clutch Derek tightly, fingers finding the edges of his hair, and holding on. Derek grunted in his ear, teeth nibbling at his ear lobe. Derek struck something deep in him, something that wasn’t his prostate. Stiles clenched around him, feeling an intense pleasure.

“D-Derek,” He whimpered and his body began to shake. Stiles moved in rhythm to Derek’s thrusting which spurred him on. Derek began to pound into Stiles, striking that place deep within him. He gripped Stiles’s knee, his other hand pressed against the bed, using it as leverage to get deeper into Stiles. 

Derek murmured in Stiles’s ear, whispered nonsense words then clamped his teeth down on Stiles’s neck. Stiles felt the pressure deep within him, felt himself peaking before he could even stop it. He leaned his head to the side, exposing all of his neck to Derek and facing the werewolf's exposed wrist. The final explosion caught Stiles by surprise, blinding him with pleasure. He nearly cried out but instead clamped his mouth around Derek’s wrist and moaned into the skin.

Derek grunted, hips stuttering as he climaxed. Stiles groaned as a pressure began to form. He whimpered at the feeling and tried to pull away which only caused a sting around his hip. Derek shushed him, “I’m sorry.”

Stiles sighed, “What is it?”

“My knot.” Derek kissed Stiles’s jaw, “That’ll teach me to get drunk and pick up strangers.”

Derek slowly laid across Stiles, doing his best to not jolt him. Derek sighed and kissed along Stiles’s neck. He allowed Derek to follow through, exposing his neck to give Derek more space. Derek rumbled happily which caused Stiles to giggle, “How long does it last, usually?”

Derek shrugged, “Never done it before.”

Stiles sighed, “lovely.”

Derek turned to kiss Stiles, his voice was rough from the exertion and his eyes drooped a little. Stiles could tell he was close to falling asleep. Stiles chuckled to himself as clearly the night was now ending. Derek’s fingers found Stiles’s head and stroked it lightly. He muttered into Stiles’s skin, “only mates.”

“What?” Stiles whispered but Derek had already fallen asleep. Stiles sighed and relaxed, reveling in the heat from the werewolf. If this was what sleeping with a werewolf was like, Stiles could love it.

**Three Months Later**

Derek yawned as he leaned over a beat up Chevy truck. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, the other holding a phone to his ear, “You don’t understand, Laura. They just go at it all night long, fucking like rabbits. And they never shut up.”

The garage that he worked in part time was slow and quiet today. He had two cars to finish and then he could go home and practice his music. Or he could try, if the recently bonded couple beside him actually slept or went to work for a little while. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. They were just an innocent, married couple trying to find a little happiness. It wasn’t their fault that he hadn’t gotten laid in three months.

“You’re just cranky because they’re getting some.” Laura, Derek’s older sister, laughed threw the phone. She was in town to catch up with her brother, but mostly to bum off him and search for potential gigs for her band, “Besides I’ve been here for a whole month and it hasn’t bothered me.”

“Cuz you sleep like a rock.” Derek growled, “They’re so irritating.”

Laura sighed, “Look, just finish up at the shop, come home and we’ll go out and drink. We’ll find you some willing hole to get busy with.”

Derek was ready to retort when he heard a ding over the intercom system. There was a soft beep and then his boss’s rather angry voice called over the system, “Hale, you’ve got a visitor.”

“Laura, I gotta go.” He muttered into the phone and disconnected. He walked up to the front office, thinking it was a potential customer. At the front entrance was the young man that had haunted his dreams for the last three months. The lanky, pale human from the bar was standing in his shop, dressed in a crisp button down shirt and black dress pants. He was touching the bottom edges of his shirt, gripping them tight in his grasp and ringing it. He bit his lip and shifted his sight to all four corners of the room until they fell on Derek. He smiled, “Did you ring for me?”

He thought best to play it cool, to not let the boy know that he had a hold on Derek. That would give him too much power and that was the one thing Derek didn’t want to let go of. The boy smiled brightly, golden-amber eyes shining when they spotted Derek, “Yeah. I just...I needed to talk to you. In private, if you don’t mind.”

Derek gave the boy a funny look. He wasn’t sure what the boy was talking about, and the nervous look on his face showed that it wasn’t good news. Derek looked around and took the boy by the shoulder, “Uh...sure....”

He smiled sadly, “You don’t remember me do you?”

Derek didn’t respond. No one liked a clingy, desperate man that pined after a one night stand. Especially when he couldn’t even remember the kids name. He went to speak again when the boy laughed, “It’s fine if you don’t remember me. I’m Stiles. We met at Wolf Moon three months ago.”

Derek nodded, “How have you been?”

Stiles bit his lip again, looking around the office. At some point the boss and the secretary had left, the entire front office was empty except for both of them. Derek leaned forward and waited for Stiles to speak. He heaved a sigh and looked straight into Derek’s eyes, “I’m having a baby.”

Derek’s vision went white, blinded for a second by several emotions that Derek couldn’t identify. He took a large breath and tried to form the right words for Stiles, “Well...that’s...congratulations.

Stiles’s big brown eyes shuttered closed on him. He bit his lip and looked away from Derek. He tried to form words, eyes beginning to water with unshed tears, “It’s yours.”

This emotion Derek could identify. It was pride, his wolf was proud to have successfully spread his seed. He could feel it hound beneath his skin, assessing the properties of Stiles and finally concluded that he was a exceptional carrier for his offspring. He must not have made the correct expression on face because Stiles was pulling away, wrapping his arms around himself and fighting the tears that were about to fall.

“Well don’t worry, I won’t bother you about it.” Stiles responded, his laugh hollow. He shifted his shoulders and focused his energy back on Derek. His stance was resolute and serious, his eyes were far from the warm, passionate look he’d had the one night three months ago, “All I ask is that you get me a doctor.”

Derek frowned at him. It was easy to come by doctors who specialized in male pregnancy. Derek froze, “How did you get pregnant?”

Stiles huffed, “You’re a real sharp wolf aren’t you?”

“No,” Derek waived his hands around, “I mean, I thought you were a...I mean, I didn’t smell the receptive scent on you.”

Stiles laughed, “I was a virgin, receptive human in werewolf territory, Scott and I took precaution.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Derek felt just a little hurt. 

Stiles rolled his eyes, “I thought it would be fine. My fertility week wasn’t for another seven days. I was suppose to be fine. Turns out werewolf juice is more potent than the human stuff.”

“But a doctor?”

“One to take care of the problem, Derek.” Stiles couldn’t resist crying anymore. His tears fell in large drops from his bright brown eyes. He whipped them away quickly and sniffled, “I just want a doctor, an address. That’s all I’m asking from you.”

Derek nodded, scratching the back of his head as he thought about it. He looked around, wondering if anyone else was hearing this conversation. He didn’t know a procedure like termination for receptive males existed let alone find a doctor who qualified to do it. The procedure was very rarely talked about for men and it was defined as illegal, especially if they were covering up illicit activities. They could get arrested if someone thought they would go through with it. He sighed, mulling over in his head who might know about termination in general. Stiles looked ready to break, his whole, thin body was shaking with some unspoken anxiety. Derek coughed, “You can’t just come to my work place and ask for that stuff.”

Stiles snapped his mouth shut, glaring at Derek, “Just forget it. This was a stupid idea. I knew you didn’t give a shit about anything. I just hoped...”

With that he pushed himself away from Derek as fast as he could. Derek chased after him, breaking out of the office and into the open street. It wasn’t much of a better location to talk about these things. However, Stiles’s face became significantly less pale in the natural light.

Derek sighed, “Look, where can I find you again?”

Stiles looked around the crowd, bouncing on his heels, “I work at West Side Elementary. Just ask for me.”  
Derek took his shoulder and squeezed it tightly, hoping to offer some support, “We’ll do it. I’ll find you a doctor, I promise. Just...” Derek thought for a moment, “Oh, meet me at Jay’s Diner in an hour, okay?”

Stiles nodded, “Thank you.”

Stiles made a break for it, running across the busy street and down the block. Derek felt even more like a dick. He rushed back to the truck and retrieved his cell phone. Laura answered right away and Derek exhaled into the phone, “I need a doctor.”

Laura’s panic was practically emanating from the phone, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did a car fall on you again?”

“No,” Derek sighed. It was a strange feeling deep in his gut. After all, Stiles was a one night stand, one that was unforgettable but still not permanent. But they created this baby and something inside Derek wanted to keep it and Stiles. The other part of him, the part that liked his wild nights at the bars, his part time job at the mechanic shop and his full time guitar playing, music making hobby didn’t want to change that. He sighed, “I need that kind of doctor.”

The other end of the phone went dead with an audible click, most likely Laura had hung up the phone and was on her way to scream at him. He barely got finished putting away his tools when Laura practically drove through the garage door. She parked her black Camaro right against the door and stormed into the garage, “Who the fuck did you knock up?”

Derek rolled his eyes and grabbed Laura by the arm. They were practically twins, same dark hair and bright, hazel eyes. Laura was just softer, face more gentle than Derek’s edges. But Laura was angry so her normally soft complexion was twisted into an angry snarl. He dragged her over to the break room and scooted everyone out. He heaved a sigh and turned to Laura, “Laura, look.”

She growled at him, “You slept with some poor, innocent girl. You knocked her up then you’re asking your dear sister for a doctor.” She smacked him across the chest, “You need to suck it up and marry her. Make Mom and Dad proud.”

Derek sighed, “It’s not a woman.”

Laura frowned, he entire body relaxing. She eased against a chair, “Okay.”

She sighed loudly and Derek rolled his eyes, “It can’t be a shock that I like men.”

Laura laughed, “No, no. I just...you banged a receptive?”

Derek gave her a strange look, “yes...Is that a problem?”

Laura rubbed her head, dark brown locks escaping her lose bun, “I mean. Aren’t they all like...effeminate. I thought you’d go for the burly, angry type.”

Derek rolled his eyes, “It was a one night stand.”

Laura tugged her hair out of her bun and flicked the scrunchy at Derek, “Unprotected? See, no. I’m not getting you a doctor. You screwed up now take your medicine.”

“Laura,” Derek sighed, “He doesn’t want to keep it.”

Laura frowned deeper, her eyes receding from the bright red to her dull hazel. She collapsed in her chair and rubbed her temple, “I’ve never heard of a receptive not wanting to keep the baby.”

“Well, he’s human...” Derek shrugged as if that explained everything that was Stiles.

“That doesn’t matter.” Laura waived her hand in front of his face. She paused for a moment then looked up at Derek, “Wait, you banged a human receptive male?!”

“Laura...”

She was up in face again, punching him in the chest, “You banged a human receptive male, Derek? Like the most sensitive gender out there?”

“He’s not sensitive.” Derek shrugged, “He told me to find a doctor and that’s what I’m going to do for him.”

Laura sighed and dug into her pocket, “I know this guy who knows a guy.” Derek gave her a strange look and she rolled her eyes and handed him a sheet of paper with a number scribbled across it, “A college buddy who got knocked up at a party. He went through the procedure, or so he tells me.”

Derek took the paper, “Thank you, Laura.”

She snarled at him, “I still think you should take your medicine.”

He grinned at her, kissed her forehead and made his way out of the garage. 

***

Stiles nervously glanced at his watch and tapped his foot against the linoleum floor. He’d been waiting in the diner long enough to get a glass of water and panic. His watch told him that Derek still had another five minutes but the anxiety was still filling his lungs. He rubbed his stomach gently, finding a small comfort in the gesture. Or maybe it wasn’t him, maybe it was the baby missing its other father and consoling that anxiety with his other father’s touch. Stiles shook the thought away, feeling sick over the idea of the baby already controlling his thoughts and emotions. After all, the baby wasn’t going to be in him for very long.

Before Stiles could hold on to that thought, grasp it and mull it over, Derek entered the diner. Stiles felt his entire insides melt, then fill up with shame. He’d spent his entire life proving that receptive males weren’t gentle, little crybabies that swooned around hot men. But Derek was a walking wet dream and Stiles was finding it hard to stare openly. 

Derek’s eyes found Stiles immediately and approached the tiny booth. He shed himself of his leather jacket and sat across from Stiles. His eyes, bright with something that Stiles couldn’t place, stared at Stiles. He bit his lip nervously and stopped rubbing his stomach, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

They were quiet again. A waitress came over and asked for an order. Stiles felt too sick to eat but Derek order a lunch for him anyways. Derek stared at Stiles and growled low, “Two cheeseburgers and a chocolate milkshake for him, water for me.”

Stiles frowned, “I can order food myself. You aren’t my alpha.”

Derek’s eyes narrowed, “My mother use to drink milkshakes when she was pregnant with me. Just take it.”

Stiles wanted to pout and argue but the flutter in his stomach stopped him in place. His stomach made a low rumbling noise that, if he wasn’t in the presence of a werewolf, would have been ignored. Instead Derek’s ears twitched and gave Stiles a very serious look. So Stiles changed the subject, “Did you find a doctor?”

Derek paused, a sour look marring his face. His fingers danced around the white table in a boring pattern. Stiles watched them with rapt attention before he took the courage to look up and find Derek’s eyes. He looked closed off, eyes an endless, fathomless dark. Stiles swallowed audibly and readied himself to change the subject. Derek took a small piece of paper and passed it to Stiles. 

Stiles took it and exhaled, “Thank You.”

Stiles was about to move, to take his things, call this doctor and erase one stupid night from his life. He felt just a little sick until Derek’s large, warm hand wrapped around his. Stiles looked up at Derek to find the werewolf with a strange expression. He gripped Stiles tightly and stared at his pale wrist, eyes focused and, if Stiles was thinking straight, lonely. Stiles relaxed against the seat and smiled encouragingly at Derek. The werewolf relaxed on his side of the table but he did not let go of Stiles’s hand.

“I want to be there.” Derek muttered.

Stiles blushed, “Um...I don’t think that’s...I mean sure, you’ve already seen it but that’s really personal.”

Derek coughed into his free hand, “I meant. I won’t let you call this doctor alone.”

Stiles laughed and tried to pull his hand away, Derek only gripped his arm tighter. Stiles sighed, “Well, of course that’s what you meant. I mean, you wouldn’t want to be in the actual room with me. I don’t want to be in the room with me.”

“Stiles,” Derek huffed, “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Stiles nodded and tried to stop the flutter bubbling in his chest. The waitress came around with Stiles’s milkshake and the burgers. Derek gently let go of Stiles’s hand, trailing his fingers down the pale skin, fingers catching on the metal edges of his watch. Stiles shuddered under the attention and used that energy to eat fast. He may have called the day off but he didn’t want any of the teachers catching him outside with a hunk like Derek. They’d get the wrong idea about him.

Instead Stiles tried to avoid staring at Derek too long and ate his burger. The milkshake tasted like heaven and every sip soothed something deep in him. He tried not to moan to loudly but could tell he was failing. He caught a glance of Derek who staring openly at him. Stiles blushed and licked his lips, “I...um...that was a good idea. Thank you.”

Derek didn’t respond, only picked at his burger until the waitress came with the bill. Stiles paid this time, only because he caught the sullen look on Derek’s face. Derek didn’t seem too bothered that Stiles had taken care of lunch and he didn’t bother to open the door for Stiles when they left the dinner. A few of the patrons in the dinner gave Derek a dirty look but he ignored them. Stiles tried to stomp down on his own disappointment, convincing himself that opening doors for people was romantic and that’s exactly what he didn’t want.

Derek pulled a large, out-of-date phone from his pocket and gestured to Stiles for the crumpled piece of paper. Stiles handed it over just a little hesitantly. Derek turned away from Stiles and muttered into the phone for a few long, painful minutes. He growled just a little in the phone before hanging up and threw it to the ground. 

He turned on Stiles with electric blue eyes. Stiles backed up just a little and searched for an escape. Derek huffed loudly and rubbed his hair, “They want two thousand dollars.”

Stiles gulped audibly. He knew the procedure would cost some money but he didn’t think that much. He felt his lungs begin to collapse, a panic attack quickly start to set in. Derek took him by the shoulders, “Stiles.”

Stiles breathed in deep, “I can...I have a thousand dollars...I-”

“I’ll get a thousand.” Derek sighed, “It’s fine.”

“Derek.”

“It’s half my fault too.” Derek squeezed Stiles’s shoulder, shaking him just lightly, “It’s my responsibility.”

Stiles nodded and ignored the sick feeling in his gut. He took a deep breath, feeling like himself again, “How long do we have?”

Derek sighed and glanced at his large, gold watch, “Four hours. The doctor said he’d prefer night time.”

They were quiet for some time, standing on the corner in front of the dinner. Stiles laughed to himself, “Four and you’ll be a free man.”

Derek did not respond, only turned to the street where a car was passing. Stiles watched him quietly, resisting the urge to stroke his stomach like he wanted to. Derek’s eyes found his again, alight with something Stiles could describe as devious, “I know where to get the money.”

“O...kay...” Stiles frowned, “It sounds really shady when you look evil like that.”

Derek simply rolled his eyes and took hold of Stiles’s wrist. A bright, electric feeling shot straight up his spin just as Derek’s fingers gripped his wrist. Stiles gasped softly but had little time to understand the feeling, Derek was pulling on his arm. The werewolf pulled him down the street, deeper into the more werewolf-prone area of town.

Stiles’s only venture into the werewolf sound of town had been that fateful night at the bar and the hotel room afterwards. Both locations had been coupled with excitement and just a little fear, leaving Stiles with very little memory of the area. Now, in moderate daylight and only the anxiety of finding money to distract him, he got a good look at the bordering werewolf community. There were people everywhere, all of them talking and laughing in large groups. Children ran free with women chasing after them. They were loud, but more importantly, they were obviously a community. 

Derek led Stiles to a stone building with several men and a few women loitering out front. They paid little attention to Derek but gave Stiles very heated glances. Stiles moved closer to Derek, following him through a dark hallway and out into a casino floor. Stiles frowned, casino halls were illegal in Beacon Hills, and while getting rid of a baby wasn’t much better, Stiles didn’t want dirty money.

He pulled on Derek’s hand, “Derek. I don’t-”

Derek didn’t listen, eyes finding a poker table. There was a crowd of women giggling and fawning over a single man. Derek pulled Stiles towards him, “Uncle.”

The women and the man looked up to Derek. The man with blazing blue eyes and sandy colored hair found Derek and smiled, “Well, if it isn’t my favorite nephew.”

Derek moved quickly to his side, keeping Stiles close. The older man followed the path of Derek’s arm to where the two were connected. Stiles blushed and looked away from his hard stare. Derek coughed, “Uncle Peter, this is my friend Stiles.”

Derek’s Uncle grinned, all sharp teeth that made Stiles very nervous, “A friend you say.”

Derek sat down in a free chair next to his uncle and placed Stiles’s hand on his shoulder. The handler at the end of the table attempted to deal Derek in but he waived his hand. He smiled charmingly and turned to his uncle. The man was watching Stiles with a sharp focus before he turned his toothy grin on Derek, “I haven’t seen you around. You missed my wedding.”

Derek sniffed, “You’ll have more.”

Derek’s Uncle Peter bellowed a gruff laugh loudly and slapped Derek on the back roughly, “By dear Nephew. Always a charmer.”

“Has Laura come to collect you yet?” Derek as, hand snaking up to where Stiles’s hand still rested. Peter watched the hand with a knowing smirk. He gave a bright smile when their fingers laced.

Peter sipped at a tumbler glass beside him, “Bah! My lovely niece no longer has to command me. But my lovely new wife seems to have taken up the cause.”

A bouncing red head barely older than Stiles was giggling over by the bar. Stiles new that perfect face immediately, Lydia Martin who’d fell away from the public eye after graduation. He wasn’t sure how happy he was with the knowledge that she was back in pathetic Beacon Hills, and that she was married to a werewolf. She seemed happy though, soaking up the attention of the room with a bright smile. Stiles turned in time to see Peter lean in close to Derek.

He gripped Derek’s wrist tightly, forcing the dark man’s hand open. He slammed a wad of bills into the open palm and closed Derek’s hand tightly, “Don’t tell Lydia. She thinks I spoil you.”

Derek frowned, “She doesn’t even know me.”

Peter laughed loudly, “Well, still, don’t tell her.”

“I don’t need money, Uncle.” Derek held his hand as if he was going to give the money back.

Uncle Peter rolled his eyes and leaned in to whisper to Derek. If Stiles hadn’t been rather short and leaning into Derek, he wouldn’t have heard their exchange. Peter grinned, “Take that lovely receptive on a real date.”

Derek coughed suggestively and leaned away from his Uncle. He subtly pocketed the wad of bills and turned back to his uncle. Just then, Lydia’s pale, thin hand slid down Peter’s chest and she laid an audible kiss on his forehead. He smiled and leaned into her touch. She glanced to Derek with her large green eyes, “Is this my new nephew?”

Peter grinned, “Yes, Love. This is Derek and his friend, Stiles.”

Lydia beamed, “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

She held out her fragile hand, waiting for Derek to take it. He gripped it awkwardly and shook it once. She gave him a sour look and moved back to Peter’s side. Again, like all those years ago, he felt swallowed up in the glow that was Lydia Martin. He was the dark corner just beyond her eye sight and that pitiful feeling began to sneak back in again. Derek’s fingers gripped his tightly, his thumb stroking slowly over his knuckles. There was something about the gesture that made Stiles feel just a little better and he relaxed into the solid weight of Derek.

Peter adjusted himself, “Well, I have been sitting here for way to long, man needs to go to the bathroom.”

Lydia allowed Peter to move from the table, taking his place in the game. She turned to Derek, “So, I hope that receptive hanging on your shoulder was the reason why you missed our wedding.”

Derek stiffened, “Uh...”

Stiles wrapped his arm around Derek’s front, his free hand played with the edges of Derek’s collar, “I just can’t keep my hands off of him. I promise we’ll be there for the renewal vows.”

Lydia smiled and leaned back against her chair, “Well, I hope so. You missed a great party.” She straightened the cards in hand before setting them down and reaching for her purse. He grabbed a wad of bills from the bag and scooted the roll across the table. She smiled at him, “Don’t tell your Uncle.”

Derek placed a finger on the bills and pushed them back towards Lydia, “I don’t need your money.”

Lydia glanced up at Stiles with a knowing smirk, one that made Stiles sick, “Take him on a nice date.” She turned back to him, “And if you tell your uncle, I’ll slit your throat.”

Derek frowned but slid the bills into his pocket. He leaned forward and kissed Lydia’s cheek, “Thank you.”

She smiled, “Now, are you going to stay and play or go on that date?”

Derek smiled and moved from the chair, taking Stiles’s hand in his, “We’re going. Thank you.” She smiled and waived him goodbye. Stiles waived over his shoulder and followed Derek out. He paused in the parking lot and took out the bills. He sighed and turned to Stiles, “We have enough, now.”

“She was nice.” Stiles shrugged, eyes moving away from the money and the guilt to the street just beyond the parking lot, “Why did she give you money?”

“Probably wants to seem like a good wife.” Derek sighed as he counted the money, “The last girlfriend called Laura fat and had to move to Canada just to get a job.”

Stiles laughed to himself as he watched cars passing. Suddenly a squad car pulled up, only it wasn’t an ordinary squad car. It was the sherif’s car. Stiles panicked and backed into Derek. The crowd around them were starting to panic as well, a few running before they even knew what the sheriff was there for. The car came to a stop at the side of the building and a shaggy haired man stepped out from the back seat of the car. Even from this distance, Stiles could see that the man was Scott. Which meant that he’d led his father straight to where he thought Stiles would have gone.

“Derek.” Stiles muttered, tugging on the werewolf’s arm. The man looked up with a frown. Stiles pointed to Scott who was looking around the street, most likely trying to find Stiles, “That is my best friend. I’m pretty sure my Dad is in the car too.”

Derek paused for a second, as if he wanted to ask why. That was until Scott spotted Stiles. He gestured in their direction as the Sheriff, Stiles’s father, stepped out of the car. Derek grabbed Stiles’s hand and made a run for it. Stiles caught Scott and his father running as well but they took a sharp turn around the corner of the building.

Derek took several sharp turns until he made it into an old storage room connected with a dance studio. Stiles could hear his father and Scott running down the alley just on the other side of the stone wall. Derek leaned against the large metal door, trying to calm his breathing. Stiles slowly circled the old piano and radio, trying to catch his breath. His hand idly rubbed his stomach, feeling the flutter beneath his fingertips. Stiles tried not watch Derek but the werewolf was watching him, hazel eyes finding Stiles’s hand.

Stiles eased onto the piano bench, “Look, just give me the money and the address. You don’t have to come with me. I know you don’t want to.”

Derek growled low in his throat and if he hadn’t been doing that all night, Stiles would have done more than shutter, “And leave you on your own?”

“You don’t have to protect me.” Stiles sighed, “It’s not your responsibility.”

Derek stood sullenly, watching as Stiles idly played with the radio on top of the piano. Derek moved away from the door, slowly making his way to where Stiles was sitting. He watched the smaller man rub along his stomach. Derek felt something deep in him scratch beneath the surface, something primal that wanted to get close to Stiles, comfort him. He rubbed the back of his head, “Why did you ever follow me to that hotel room?”

Stiles felt the burn of shame. He had wanted to push the whole night behind him, forget everything that ever happened about Derek and that night. It was one of the reasons why he needed to get rid of this baby, “Just forget about it. I don’t know why I followed you. I was stupid and naive.”

Derek sighed and echoed Laura, “Serves me right for taking home a virgin receptive.”

Stiles gave Derek a very dark look, “Boy, they certainly know how to rope us idiots in.” Stiles stared off into the distance, following the cracks in the walls, “They tell you all the happy things. They build it up to some fireworks show where bodies melt and two people become one. And they make it sound like its all just true love and happy sailing from there.” Stiles pounded his fingers against the worn keyboards, trying to rid himself of the frustration he’d felt since that night, “But they don’t talk about the shame afterwards. Or how everyone is an asshole once they’ve gotten a piece of you.”

Derek frowned and looked away from Stiles. He’d made the boy so bitter after one night but here he was, decades older than he had been that very night. He sighed, “Well...”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Look, I’m just stating how I feel. Don’t think its all about you, sourwolf.”

Derek huffed quietly, grinning just a little at Stiles. The boy finally flipped the dial on the radio, turning it to an old radio station. He smiled softly when the same, romantic, Jack Jones song began to play. Stiles leaned against the piano and remember the soft touches shared in the darkness. Derek sat on a stool across from Stiles, “This was playing that night. They had the record already on the record player.”

Stiles blushed deeply and turned the radio off, “I thought you didn’t remember that night.” Derek grunted and leaned against the table. Stiles eyed him again before turning back to the radio, “That’s what love is, they say, hearing bells and banjoes and I’m the idiot that was waiting all my life for a stranger.”

Derek sighed, “Don’t let this set you back. It’s possible.” He played with the dust on the table, “Everyone falls in love eventually.”

Stiles sighed, “Did you ever go through your yearbook and wonder who is still together?” Stiles laughed, Scott and he did all the time, especially when they felt extra lonely, “Everyone is miserable, most of them are divorced and if they’re not, they are on their way there.”

“Well,” Derek huffed, “That’s what marriage is. It’s a prison where everyone is just waiting until their sentence is over.”

Stiles thought back to his father, a happily married man who’d lost his wife too soon. He wasn’t a man waiting for a prison sentence to be done, he was a man waiting for the other half of his soul. And, even if Stiles didn’t say it aloud, that’s what he wanted too. He wanted that desperate, everlasting love that made a man invincible. His father wanted that for him as well, which made the discovery of this mess all the more worse.

“Not my father.” Stiles sighs dreamily. Derek watched him with narrowed eyes. Stiles ignored him, the dreamy look fading from his eyes, “That is, until my mother died. They were in love.”

Derek heaved a shoulder, a heavy shrug that only made Stiles feel more pathetic, “It hurts more when they love you.”

Stiles nodded and looked towards the radio again. He sniffled just a little and turned to Derek, “I think its almost time.”

Derek nodded and the two snuck their way the closet. They passed the gambling alley without spotting the Sheriff or Scott and continued to the address they’d been given, Derek leading the way and Stiles slowly straggling behind. Stiles wanted nothing more than to go back to his quiet little room, curl up in his sheets and cry like the man he thought he was. Instead he followed Derek to an old motel in the werewolf side of town and tried not to think about what they were doing.

The Red Inn was a small prostitute ring that became an apartment complex, that was eventually shut down for led paint poisoning. It was dusty and dirty now, filled with gang graffiti and mice. There was mold and chipped paint all over the walls but Stiles tried not to think of that. He calmed his heavily beating heart and followed Derek to the room. 

They came to the second floor suite and Derek knocked twice, quietly. Stiles held his breath and tried to clear his thoughts away. He reminded himself that this is what was needed. He needed to severe his ties with that night, Derek needed it just as much. He reminded himself that this wasn’t cruel or selfish, just necessary.

Suddenly the door opened, an older man with steel blue eyes and a slim, scary looking red headed woman sat in the empty room, a single suitcase was at the woman’s feet. She stood upon seeing Stiles and stepped deeper into the suite. They passed the foyer and into the bedroom where a dirty blanket was laid across the ground. Stiles glanced behind him to see the older man blocking Derek’s path. Derek looked at him, eyes wide and fearful. Suddenly the door shut behind him, blocking Derek from view.

He could hear the man shout, hear Derek being pushed up against the wall and then quiet. Clearly, he was not allowed to be in the room with Stiles. He wasn’t sure if he was okay with that.

Stiles shivered in the chill of the room. 

“Get undressed.” The woman said cooly. She dropped the suitcase with a loud clank and began to take off her jacket. She glared at Stiles and gestured for him to do the same. He did, slowly, hesitantly while she donned a white lab coat and laid the contents of the suitcase out by the blanket.

Stiles laid his coat over the chair in the corner and toed off his shoes. He hesitated at the collar of his shirt, repeating in his mind that this was necessary. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, glancing back at the floodlight and kitchen tongs the woman was putting out. Stiles shuddered again and took off his shirt. He dropped his pants too but froze on his underwear.

His hands were on his bony hips, the small bump of the baby starting to show and Stiles wasn’t sure that he could do this. He had a tiny life in him, the potential for something great that he could create and mold. It would have his wit and Derek’s eyes, his father’s laugh and his mother’s smile. 

“Well,” The woman hissed impatiently, “Are you going to get undressed or not. We have to do this quickly.”

Stiles heaved a great sigh, staring at his growing stomach. He heard a rustle behind him, something akin to fighting when suddenly the door burst open. Derek had broken into the room and caught sight of the horrible condition, “What the hell is this?” He squawked, “You said a doctor.”

“This is what you get. Take it now or walk away.” She offered with a very cold, detached expression.

Derek glared at her and made his way over to Stiles, still frozen. He took Stiles by the shoulder, “Let’s go, we’re leaving.”

Stiles remained frozen, caught on the idea of the baby looking like his mother. The baby could have the same golden brown eyes, the deep brunette curls, the soft lullabies that she would sing to him.

“Stiles,” Derek growled low, his wolf whining deep inside, hurt by the fear emanating from Stiles. He gripped the man’s arm tightly and shook him. Suddenly Stiles was crying, arms flung over Derek’s shoulders and pulling him closer. Derek did the same, holding him tightly, “They’re not going to touch you. I’ll rip their throats out before I let them touch you.”

The man and woman made a run for it, taking most of the money with them. Derek didn’t care, he only held Stiles tighter and waited for the boy to fall asleep. He hailed a taxi and held Stiles the entire drive back to the apartment he shared with Laura. He made sure to tuck the boy into his bed, wrapping the small body up in the warmest blankets he had. He tried not to feel too happy about his bed smelling of the receptive male, but his heart still fluttered just a little at the thought.

He eased back into a chair and watched as stiles curled around his favorite pillow and fell into a dreamless sleep. Derek rubbed his temple and wondered where they would go from here. The rage he’d felt, the way the wolf had bubbled over inside of him. There was no way he was going to let Stiles get rid of the baby or himself.

When the sun rose he made his way out of the apartment quietly and marched towards his own demise.

**That Afternoon**

Stiles awoke when the sun was high in the sky with an ache deep inside him. The baby, his baby, was fluttering within him, squirming and reaching for something that Stiles couldn’t provide. He gripped his stomach tightly and exhaled, watching the ceiling fan spine above him. He heard a pot crash just beyond the door. Stiles quietly slipped out of bed and made his way out of the bedroom.

In the kitchen was a voluptuous woman with piercing blue eyes and long black hair. She was wearing tight exercise pants and a tank top and she hummed an unknown tune. She turned when she heard him and smiled, “Well, you’re finally up.”

Stiles was embarrassed first. Firstly, he’d slept in a stranger’s apartment building and probably looked a wreck today, and secondly, he’d had hoped that was Derek trying to make him breakfast. He was mildly shamed and disappointed when it was a woman instead, a woman that was most likely Derek’s perfect girlfriend.

“Hello,” He muttered.

She laughed, “I’m Laura, Derek was to rude to stick around and introduce us.”

“Oh...” Stiles frowned. That had been the name Derek mentioned before to Peter. She was a niece, perhaps Derek’s sister. Or, Stiles dreaded, a nephew’s beloved wife, “I’m Stiles.”

“Nice to meet you.” She grinned, “Derek hasn’t told me anything about you but I’m only his older sister. It’s not a big deal.”

Stiles smiled, “I’m only a one night stand.”

Laura dropped a plate and Stiles watched it clatter to the ground. He looked back up at her face. It was sad, the kind of heavy sadness Derek had. She looked at Stiles like that, eyes soft with something he couldn’t quite tell, “How about you go take a shower. I’ll run those clothes through the wash.”

Stiles nodded, “Thank you.”

She grinned, “There’s a robe on his door.”

Stiles stripped himself of his clothes and donned the robe. Laura was by the bathroom with a set of towels for him and exchanged them for the clothes. Stiles stepped into the cozy bathroom and felt, for the first time, settled. He was oddly calm in the tiny, private bathroom and he revealed in the feel of it. He turned the shower on and stepped under the water, even if it was still cold. He washed away all of the events of the last several months from his body and braced himself for a new life. 

He was going to be a father and his baby was going to be everything that was perfect in the world. He’d have to plan around his due date and the months after for cooperation but his life wouldn’t end just because he was single and pregnant. With a renewed sense of life, he washed himself clean and finally relaxed.

He stepped out of the shower to find Laura icing Derek’s swelling eye and his father sitting at the small dining room table. Derek looked sheepish and resolute, like he’d come to some great and difficult decision and decided the path that was most painful to him. Stiles didn’t like that expression at all so he moved to his father who appeared to be relieved more than anything, “Dad.”

“You had me worried, Stiles. You didn’t come home for dinner and your mentor said you had called in sick yesterday.”

“I’m sorry, Dad.” Stiles sighed, “I just-

His father raised a hand to quiet him, “I know why you’re sorry.”

“Stiles we should-” Derek began but Stiles’s father stopped him again. Derek leaned back in his seat, face crumbled and depressed. Laura gave him a pitying look.

“Derek told me about your little package.” His father hesitated, “And I’m disappointed, Stiles. But, Derek, being a real man, has decided to take responsibility and he’s going to marry you. He’s told me he’s willing to and I think its the best thing for everyone.”

Stiles bristled under the words and he turned to Derek, “Responsibility?” Derek nodded, his face a little lighter than before, “You want to get married?”

“I said I would.”

Stiles raised his hand to his head, running his fingers along his scalp, “Yes, I heard, but do you want to get married?”

Derek paused for a moment. Marriage was not a werewolf customer, it was a human customer. Derek didn’t really feel it as binding as werewolf mating, though he was sure they’d have to go through that ceremony as well. Whether he wanted to commit to Stiles or not wasn’t the point, the point was Stiles’s happiness which meant Stiles getting married, “Well, it’s the right thing to do. Both of us are responsible for this and I’m willing to take my medicine.”

Stiles frowned, his heart welling up with all of his rage and angst and hormones. This was exactly what he hadn’t wanted and he wasn’t going to stand for it, “And I’m your medicine. Taking pity on the poor, receptive male that can’t do a thing except get pregnant and ruin everyone’s lives.”

Stiles stormed over to the laundry closet, pulling his clothes from the dryer and stomping back over to the bathroom. Stiles’s father frowned while Derek jumped to the bathroom door, “Stiles!”

Stiles’s father groaned, “He’s willing to marry you, what more do you want?”

Stiles was dressed and at the door, staring at Derek with hardened amber eyes. Derek stepped away slowly, leaving a path to the front door wide open, “I want to be happy. I don’t want to be a jail keeper and that’s what I’ll be as long as you feel the way you do.”

Derek stepped forward but Stiles wormed away from him and escaped from the apartment. Derek watched the slim man run from his apartment, feeling a part of himself leave with the man. Stiles’s father turned to Derek, “What the hell was that?”

Derek sighed, “Stiles wants bells and banjoes. Not me.”

And with that cold realization, Derek slowly made his way back to his bedroom. Laura turned to Stiles’s father and shrugged her shoulders.

**Three Months Later**

“Stiles,” Mr. Schumaker took Stiles’s arm and guided him into his office. He sat Stiles gently in one of the cushy guest chairs. Stiles was thankful for it, six months pregnant and he was starting to swell up like a balloon. He’d thought his career was over with, especially since the school board knew he was unmarried, but somehow he’d kept his scholarship and his student teacher. Now, as they neared the end of school, he was anxious to know if he’d have a job.

“Mr. Schumaker.” Stiles squeaked nervously.

The old man smiled, “So, how are you feeling. Is the baby okay?”

Stiles nodded and rubbed his large stomach, “Pretty great actually. I can feel her kick.”

“Do you know the sex yet?”

Stiles shook his head, “I don’t want to know yet. But it feels like a girl.”

Mr. Schumaker smiled bright and wide, full of teeth and joy, “I’m glad, girls are pretty special. Not that there is anything wrong with boys, girls just want to be around you a little longer." The older man looked wistful for a second, eyes finding the picture of his daughter when she was young. He turned his aging eyes on Stiles, "I wanted to talk to you about next year.”

Stiles heaved a sigh, “Yeah.”

Mr. Schumaker pulled a picture from his desk, one that no one ever got to see. He flipped it over and showed it to Stiles. It was Mr. Schumaker, 20 years younger and bloated, there was a man at stomach level, leaning against Mr. Schumaker with the brightest smile. Mr. Schumaker himself looked young and happy, “I was just like you. Pregnant, young and in love. Back then, a teacher had me fired because it wasn’t right that Roger and I weren’t married. We had to move states and fake a marriage license just so that I could teach here.”

“Why not get married?” Stiles frowned.

Mr. Schumaker laughed, his eyes twinkled, “Why put a label on something perfect. I saw my friends with the weight of a wedding ring and I didn’t like it. We faked a license, registered everything as Mr. and Mr. Schumaker but we never changed. Twenty years later and we still haven’t changed. But here I am, faced with a very difficult decision.” He handed the picture to Stiles who fawned over how happy Mr. Schumaker looked, “The school board doesn’t want me to encourage your lifestyle, but I do and so does the superintendent. You’ll be my assistant for this year and you’ll take on some of the secretary work too. It’s part time pay but you’ll have more time for the little one. You’ll have your own class next year.”

Stiles smiled brightly, “Really?”

Mr. Schumaker took Stiles’s hand in his, “Absolutely, Mr. Stilinski.”

Stiles wanted to jump up in hug him. Instead he staggered to his feet, gave the man and awkward, one armed squeeze and tried not to cry, “This makes me very happy, Mr. Schumaker.”

“I’m glad.” They shook hands and Stiles waddled out to his car to share in the joy of having a future job.

He drove to the grocery store, intent on cooking a large, celebration dinner for himself. Since the fiasco all those months ago, Stiles moved out to a tiny efficiency close to the school. It may have been in the center of the busiest place in Beacon Hills, it was noisy all the time and he had to keep his blinds closed. But it was the best time of his life. He saw his dad occasionally during the week and spent Sundays with him. He saw Scott more regularly but he was still left to his own devices. He loved that freedom even more than the idea that he was going to be a father soon, and now he had the next fall to look forward to.

He sighed in the parking lot and rubbed his belly happily, “We’ll be okay, baby.”

He felt the shifting beneath his skin, an arm pressing against his stomach. Stiles grinned and rolled out of his jeep, only to come face to face with Derek. The werewolf was standing just across from him, at a large enough distance that the car door hand’t hit him but close enough that Stiles could see the bags under his arms. His eyes were downcast, looking at Stiles’s belly with a strange level of concentration.

In response, Stiles wrapped an arm around his growing belly, “Hey.”

“Hi.” Derek grumbled, “I was...I was...How are you?”

Stiles smiled, “I’m fine. How have you been?”

Derek shuffled his feet, “Fine. I’ve been great even.”

Stiles laughed, “That’s good to here. You haven’t been wasting away in that casino, right? After all, I may have to tell my Dad and he’ll arrest you.”

Derek didn’t respond, instead his eyes moved from Stiles’s belly back to his face. Stiles sighed and closed his jeep door. He locked it and started to shuffle towards the grocery store. Derek followed beside him, “I have been thinking, about everything.”

“Really?” Stiles feigned innocently. In truth, nearly every night had been spent either wondering what sleeping beside Derek had felt like or crying over the loss of him. But it wasn't like Stiles was going to advertise that thought to the very man that caused those feelings.

Derek followed quietly as Stiles grabbed a cart and made his way through the grocery store. When they hit the spice section, he spoke again, "Yes."

They were quiet for some time while Stiles tried to decide if he wanted to make pan fried steak or chicken. He was celebrating a new job and a happy life but he didn't want to be the cause of his dad's next heart attack. When he'd decided on chicken, the little werewolf in his belly rolled over angrily. He sighed, steak it is. Stiles grabbed the right spices and made he way to the produce section, vowing that he'd have a plate full of vegetables as revenge.

Derek followed sullenly, "I..." He heaved a great sigh and took hold of Stiles's cart, "What are you doing tonight?"

Stiles grinned, "Is the little wolfie missing me?" 

Stiles laughed at Derek's sour face. For the first time in months, he felt normal. He felt like himself again, same sarcasm and general happy nature. He felt light and free despite carrying around a little werewolf baby and being faced with an undeniably bad crush. But seeing Derek so child like, nervous and pouty, Stiles felt like he had the upper hand. When Derek said nothing, face sinking even more into a pout, Stiles laughed and continued to move to the vegetables, "I'm making dinner tonight, I'm celebrating."

Derek looked at Stiles, "The baby?"

"No," Stiles laughed, "Not yet, at least. I got a permanent teaching position at Beacon Hills Elementary. I'll be an assistant for a year but then I'll get my very own class."

"Congratulations." Derek muttered, "I'm glad you're happy."

Stiles smiled, "I am. I have my own little place too."

"I know." Derek muttered quietly. If Stiles hadn't been so invested in every word Derek was saying, he would have missed that comment.

"Excuse me?" Stiles grinned, "Dude, that's stalker level creepiness. I don't appreciate you following me around. I'm trying to assert my independence and you're invading my personal space."

Derek growled, "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Stiles rolled his eyes, "Did you even knock on my door."

Derek rolled his shoulders, "I wanted to."

Stiles hid a smile by picking out a stalk of broccoli. His stomach rolled a little and Derek made a disgusted face over his shoulder. Stiles laughed, "You and the baby have the same taste you know."

Derek did not respond and Stiles quietly bagged the vegetables. He moved on to tomatoes, grabbing a pack of ripe cherry tomatoes. The baby seemed happy with his choice and when he glanced at Derek, the werewolf was looking at another pack of tomatoes. Stiles sniffled and took a second pack. He pulled a salad mixture pack before moving on to the potatoes. Derek eyed them with a very obvious hunger which made Stiles laugh.

"Would you like to come to dinner?" Stiles offered, "I have an extra place."

The tension in Derek's shoulders eased, his face became brighter. Stiles was sure he was smiling in the only way his muscles would allow him to, which made Stiles's heart flutter anxiously. Derek muttered lowly, "I'd like that."

Derek followed Stiles through the grocery store but made no comment about anything Stiles grabbed. They packed Stiles's jeep and, when Stiles expected them to part, Derek got into the passenger seat. Stiles made no comment and chose to hid his smile away as well.

The drive to Stiles's apartment was quiet and quick. He conveniently lived in an area where he could walk to both work and the store but could also chose not too, especially with how large he'd gotten. When he parked to the side of the complex, Derek slid out of the car first, getting the groceries and then helping Stiles out of the car. 

"I can do it." Stiles grunted, "I'm not going to let you dote on my because I'm fat."

"I'm not doting." Derek snarled, "You looked like you needed help."

Stiles gave Derek a funny look but allowed him to bustle around him. Derek held the groceries and the door while Stiles lumbered through slowly. The doorman grinned at the two of them but Stiles ignored it, choosing to get to the elevator as fast as possible. Derek looked around the main entrance way of the complex until the ding of the door called his attention.

"This is a nice place." Derek muttered, "Very clean."

Stiles laughed, "Thank You. It's the only place that allowed me to live here on my own. There's mostly omegas here. My neighbor is a widower."

Derek smiled, "Good."

They were awkwardly quiet as the elevator crawled up to the fourth floor. Stiles was never quiet but he had very little to discuss with Derek that wouldn't sound pathetic or stupid. So he opted for silence even as they stepped into his apartment. He took the bags from Derek and walked to his tiny kitchenette.

Derek sniffed, "It's small but it smells like you."

"Thanks, I guess." Stiles sighed. It was like there was anyone else making other smells around in his apartment anyways.

Derek picked up a stray pair of boxer shorts and sniffed them. Stiles blushed once he realized he hadn't cleaned the apartment at all. Dirty laundry was everywhere, conveniently left in places where he stripped and collapsed into bed, purely exhausted. Stiles made a grab for the boxers but Derek moved out of his way, "They smell like you and the baby."

Stiles frowned, "Look, if you're going to be creepy about this. I just wanted to make a nice dinner to celebrate and show that we can be friends but it-"

Derek leaned forward and sealed his lips over Stiles's own, cutting off any protest he may have had. Derek wrapped Stiles up in his long, muscular arms and deepened the kiss. Stiles melted into the embrace, wrapping his arms around Derek's waist and pulling him closer. He was stopped only by the presence of his belly and it jolted him from the touch. 

He pushed away from Derek and gulped in large amounts of air. Derek was still trying to press forward, "What wrong?"

Stiles's fingers found the lapel of Derek's jacket, he hadn't even taken it off. He buried them in the leather, feeling the tight muscles underneath, "We can't do this?"

Derek frowned, "Why?"

He pushed forward again but Stiles stepped out of the way, circling the couch and using that space to separate them. He heaved a great sigh, feeling the stress escape him, "Because, you and I are too good for this. I really like you Derek, which is why I respect you enough to not go through with this."

Derek narrowed his eyes at Stiles, looking ever much the predator that he was, "You like me?"

"And respect you." Stiles laughed to himself, "Which is why this," he gestured between them, "Isn't going to happen. You don't want this with me and I want something more than this with you."

Stiles hadn't realized he'd let something slip. He was too caught up in trying to get Derek understand that their relationship may not involve a leash but Stiles didn't want someone who'd easily chase the next frisky tail. Himself be damned, he wanted something serious and long lasting, someone who'd be there for him and the baby. He wanted a partnership where Derek wanted sex and he liked the werewolf too much to drag him into something he wasn't prepared for.

Derek stared at Stiles before kicking the couch with his booted foot, "You won't sleep with me because you like me?"

Stiles laughed, "Is it too hard for the wolfman to follow?"

Derek did not react to the statement. He simply turned around and marched out the door. Stiles frowned as he watched the werewolf leave. He threw his arms in the air in hopes of removing the frustration he felt and collapse in his chair. He didn't move again until Scott texted him and told him he and his father were waiting in the lobby.

**The Next Week**

Small kids and a wide girth was not very easy. Stiles couldn't worm around the students's desk very well and he had to get on his knees to help the kids with their math problems. Mr. Schumaker, thankfully, was helping a lot though he remained silent unless directly asked for assistance. Stiles was confident enough in his ability as a teacher but he really can't wait for the brat to get out of his belly.

A solid kick to his kidney was his response. He groaned low before a small girl tugged at his arm. She, Tasha, was half wolf, half human and the first in the Beacon Hills Elementary school. She had wide gold eyes and thick black hair that made Stiles wonder if his child was doomed to course, jet black hair as well. He'd taken an immediate shine to her, even more now that he was going to have a child like her. She was quiet and exceptionally bright, which Stiles could learn to live with a child that looked like Derek if they were a genius like him. She pulled him gently closer, "The bells going to ring soon."

Stiles looked up at the clock to notice they had about ten minutes to clean up their supplies and get the children together. He groaned and slowly stood up, "Alright, kids. We have to clean up our mess and get ready to go home."

The children groaned together, which made Stiles smile wide, then began to clean their supplies. Stiles helped a little but Mr. Schumaker made him sit down, "Rest a little. You're walking the kids to the buses."

Stiles smiled, "Thanks."

He watched the children gather their things and pointed out spots of glue and glitter that he'd have to clean later. The maps the children were drawing were laid out on the back table to dry over night. Stiles knew he'd have to be up early tomorrow so that he could hang the pictures up. He idly rubbed his belly, feeling the baby shift inside. 

Mr. Schumaker had all of the children lined up in a rose, the little half-ling girl in the front. She took hold of Stiles's hand tightly and they walked the beaten path to the front door. Stiles made sure that each of the little ones were in orderly fashion even when the other teachers were pulling students out of their rooms. He felt completely at piece, finally content with the life he was about to embark on. 

Sure, it wasn't how he'd envisioned it nearly five months ago, single, pregnant, and with an aid's job to look forward to in the fall, but he was happy. When he finally reached the front doors, propped open by the gym teacher and the principle, he took a whiff of the warm spring air. 

There was loud noises and giggling all around. Children were running to their parents and, to his left, a crowd was starting to form. Stiles turned and moved closer, still gripping Tasha's hand. The closer he moved, the sounds began to filter out. He could identify laughing and talking, then suddenly bells and a sting instrument. The bells were off beat, ringing randomly like a heard of horses with bells on were stampeding through the street. The string instrument sounded plucky and off key, when Stiles filtered out the whispers, he could hear that it was a banjo, played without any intent. 

The crowd separated and Stiles was faced with a very villainous looking Derek playing a banjo. There was a set of bells on his wrists that clang without any rhythm. He was staring straight at Stiles with a very determined, and admittedly angry look. Stiles was sure it was because of the crowd of parents and children around him. Beside his feet was a handmade sign, in very sloppy writing with some sort of black marker. When Stiles turned his head just a little to the left, he managed to read 'Marriage or Death'.

Stiles took a moment to revel in his obvious embarrassment, smiling wide and chuckling to himself. That is, until Tasha yanked on his arm. He chuckled to himself and led Tasha to her bus, some of his children following. Tasha tugged on his arm, "I think that werewolf is following you."

Stiles turned and found Derek following them, attempting to play the piano and ring the bells. The crowd was staring at him while he glared at Stiles. He huffed and turned to Tasha, "Go to your bus, you know the number, right?"

She nodded happily and glanced at Derek once more before running off to the bus. Derek stepped up behind Stiles and leaned forward, "My fingers hurt."

Stiles snorted and turned to face the werewolf. He wrapped his hands around the banjo, covering Derek's hands with his own, "What are you doing?"

"Looking stupid." Derek grunted and leaned forward, "Marry me?"

Stiles grinned, "Okay."

They leaned forward together, lips meeting in a soft kiss. Stiles heart fluttered lightly, toes curled with the pleasure. He tried to move forward, stopped by the banjo. Derek growled and moved the banjo out of the way. Stiles stifled a giggle and moved as close as he could. Derek took Stiles's face between his hands and pulled him close, the two colliding in a more passionate kiss. Stiles moaned quietly and Derek responded with a low grumble of his own and tried to pull him closer. Only, Stiles's stomach got in the way.

They pulled away, noticing the crowd growing around them. Derek leaned forward, "Let me take you home."

Stiles smiled, "Sure. I here pregnant sex is awesome."

Derek smiled, a small quirk of his lips, then leaned forward to capture Stiles's lips with another burning kiss.


End file.
